


Keep the Doors Locked, Keep Your Hearts Open

by Elleth



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Quarantine, Rash Illness (Stand Still Stay Silent)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23139901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleth/pseuds/Elleth
Summary: The Rash has come to Dalnes, and Sigrun and Ingrid face a two-week quarantine, together, testing not only their health and strength - but also their hearts, in more than just one way.
Relationships: Sigrun Larsen/Ingrid Pedersen
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	Keep the Doors Locked, Keep Your Hearts Open

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic - I started it in 2016 and kept writing for a while before it drowned in my WIP folder - but given the recent real life circumstances, being stuck at home for four weeks because of school cancellations until the Easter holidays, and [this post](https://vefanyar.tumblr.com/post/612554990043774976), I've got more time on my hands than I know what to do with, so why not dust off some old semi-relevant femslash and see it through? 
> 
> Stay safe, wash your hands, call your doctor if you have Corona symptoms, don't panic-buy. ♥

Sigrun paced up and down the floor of the café. Gøran awkwardly hung near the door, fidgeting with the hose of an old gas mask he'd found in a cellar, and Aksel was practically stuck through the window pane from the outside; his fingertips pressed white against the glass. Ingrid had curled up on the chairs of their regular table and was trying to muffle sobs into her sleeve. 

"Look, the point of a quarantine is _isolation_ ," Gøran's voice came muffled through the mask, though what a gas mask would do, other than make him look like a scary alien elephant, Sigrun couldn't really say. She had no idea if it'd protect him against infection. 

So "You look like a scary alien elephant," was what she told him. "And I'm not taking orders from you. I don't want to be alone, and Ingrid doesn't want to be alone. Do _you_ want Ingrid to be alone?" 

If a gas mask could look lost, Gøran looked lost. 

Sigrun didn't particularly feel like smirking, but she knew she'd found his sore spot. When Plaguemageddon had hit, it'd also hit Ingrid and Gøran's relationship, hard, and it hadn't been immune. Things had gone unpleasant quick, especially when they hadn't had space to avoid each other. They'd nearly sunk Gunnar's boat with their screeching on a supply run to Bergen, that time they'd gotten into a row out on deck and managed to make enough noise to alert a mutated… Sigrun still wasn't sure what it had been. A porpoise, probably; it'd been hard to tell after the mutations and especially after it was done ramming itself into the boat's hull trying to get at the humans inside. 

It'd been dumb. Point was, she had ammunition, her arm hurt like there was no tomorrow (and maybe there wouldn't be, in two weeks tops; so far it'd never taken longer than that for any Rash signs to appear on anyone who'd gotten infected), and she was pit-of-her-stomach scared. Gøran ran a gloved hand over the lower half of his gas mask, like he was stroking his dumb beard. (He probably was stroking his dumb beard, which was longer and even dumber than it had been before the world ended.)

He said something under his breath that Sigrun didn't quite catch. 

"Don't hurt yourself thinking," she muttered. "Hipster dumbass, go instagram your gas mask. Oh, sorry, there's no instagram any longer."

"If… okay, I guess!" He threw his arms up in exasperation, and Sigrun briefly hated him for not rising to the bait. She felt like a fist fight. "That dog got both of you, so if either of you isn't immune it won't make a difference if you stay together, because you're both a hundred percent infected. If you're both immune, then it doesn't matter either because you're both a hundred percent _not_ infected. If only one of you - " 

"Woohoo. Yeah, we got it, Dumbo's got a brain." 

"Sigrun, stop." Ingrid finally uncurled herself and sat up, wiping clumsy hands over her face. She looked like a drooping daisy; all her usual good cheer and air of superiority had gone the moment the infected dog - starved, chunks of its fur missing, and its eyes milky with infection, though it still looked like a dog, at least - came charging at them from between the buildings where they'd gone scavenging for supplies in the final two houses of Dalsnes, up in Langdalen that no one had gotten to yet. Sigrun had almost expected old Johansen to come chasing after him, waving his leash and ordering Sköll back. It hadn't exactly been an uncommon sight throughout Dalsnes before the world had gone to shit. He was one of the crazy old people that Dalsnes had more than enough of. Only he hadn't been anywhere in sight, and with what his dog looked like, that was probably a good thing.

Aksel's spray of bullets had missed. The useless dork had probably squeezed his eyes shut while shooting. It was just as well he hadn't hurt anyone else. 

It'd been Berit who'd made short work of the dog, but she hadn't managed to grab the rifle from her grandson until it'd been too late: The dog had gone for Ingrid's leg, and when Sigrun, without thinking, had tried to pull him off, Sköll had bitten her, too. 

She tried to push the event away. It was replaying itself all over in her mind. The murky eyes, the crusted stuff in the shaggy grey fur around them, the worms that writhed at their edges, the bloody spittle flying off his teeth as Sköll twisted around and had her arm quicker than she could blink. 

And that that was that. Two weeks until lights out if they were unlucky. 

Ingrid rubbed at her face again, then at the bandage around her calf - stained red with blood and iodine tincture, not so different from the one around Sigrun's own lower arm - and sighed. "Just… _everyone_ stop. It's not worth the effort." 

She wasn't looking at Gøran, but that had been the core of what she said to him when they'd broken up, too.

Sigrun felt more irritation bubble up. "It's worth it! I don't know about you, but I want to give living a shot. We can still throw ourselves into the sea if we're starting to have symptoms, but until then I'm going to stick here, whether or not you want to take a bath in the middle of winter just because there's a few dents in your leg!"

Ingrid stared at her for a long moment, until the door chime rang and they both looked up. Gøran had moved outside and pulled his mask off. The hair underneath was frazzled and his face looked wet, though in the dim light of the day Sigrun wasn't sure. It might just be sweat, those masks would have to be hellishly warm. 

It was Aksel who was a crybaby. He was a dork, still sticking to the window, but peeled himself off and sheepishly waved goodbye. The spots where his hands had been misted, then faded, in the sleet coming down outside. Aksel waved again, fumbled up his hood, and turned away. The moment Sigrun could no longer see his face, he hunched over even worse than usual.

If she could have gone after him, she'd kick his ass. _Literally_ kick his ass. 

She was glad for the distraction when Gøran turned the key in the lock with a click. No getting out now. He held up his hands in a quick series of motions. _14._ Another flurry of gestures - pointing to the water, a slashing motion across his throat and a decisive headshake; then again, _14_. 

Two weeks. Two fucking weeks.

Sigrun dropped into the chair across from Ingrid and laid her head against the cool tabletop. It still smelled of spilled coffee, even though they'd run out of coffee weeks ago when the supply trips had become too dangerous. More and more people everywhere dropped like flies, some started turning into monsters, and the ice in the fjord was just as bad in its own way. Gunnar had decided to stay put until spring, if the Rash Illness didn't get him first.

Sigrun would do a lot for a decent coffee, but that was a thing of the past along with so many other things. The world was going to hell, and all she could think about was coffee, like a fucking moron. 

"You're not gonna try licking the table again, are you?" Ingrid said. There was a hint of a wet laugh in her voice, and Sigrun brushed some hair aside to glance up at her. The laugh didn't make it to her eyes, though Sigrun supposed they looked a little less dejected than they had before.

And just like that, the anger lifted. 

"No licking the table," Sigrun said, in a low voice. Suddenly she just felt tired and - to her surprise - empty. Famished. "Promise. I'm hungry, though. Let's see what they left us? Hunger is good, right? Sick people don't get hungry."

Ingrid looked unconvinced. "Maybe not at first," she said. "Once they get infected. I guess it all comes back when they mutate, though. From what we've seen..." 

"Can we start talking about that if it starts happening?" Sigrun asked, making a beeline for the crate of supplies that they'd carried in for the two of them and taking the lid off. "Tuna cans. That's nice if you like fish sludge, I guess. No meat?" 

"We don't exactly have fridges any longer, and throwing it outside will only attract… things. Besides, it wouldn't be organic. I'm not going to eat some poor tortured animal." 

Sigrun rolled her eyes. "I'd kill for a decent steak, don't care where it'd be from. All the animals get to be in the end is dead anyway."

"..." 

"Sorry. Okay, we have carrots, from Aksel's garden I think." Sigrun lifted them out and held up the whole bunch by their withered greens. "If you want anything more organic you probably have to eat dirt and stuff. Worms. Yum, worms." 

Ingrid snorted and knelt next to Sigrun. "Potatoes, also good. Mmm, canned Lapskaus." She took the can she'd fished out from underneath the tubers and tossed it at Sigrun, who leaned aside and let it roll away over the wooden floor. 

"Yech! It looks like dog food." 

"Sodd! Surströmming!" 

"They're trying to poison us, not keep us alive!" Sigrun ducked out of the way of those cans as well and watched them roll away, sticking her tongue out. "Let's keep all that for bowling, just in case we get bored." 

"It's not half bad, they care about us after all," Ingrid answered, digging further into the crate. "There's a ton of bags down here under the terrible stuff. Beans! Instant coffee! Tea! Instant food and all the sealed stuff that they probably pumped full of preservatives. Pea stew, kohlrabi mash, Mexican tomato soup, pasta, rice, bread mix. Lots of stuff. Preserves. Jam. Fish bouillon with magic power. I'd like some of that to wish the world back to normal."

"I'm a genie in the bouillon, you gotta cook me the right way?" Sigrun hummed, trying to muster her willpower to not grab the instant coffee and run with it. "That'd be nice. I'd wish for Aksel to stop being such a wimp and finally ask me out." 

Ingrid fidgeted with the thin gold necklace that her engagement ring dangled from, as she'd been doing all day. "I'd wish for Gøran to stop being a jerk and get over his big ego. I never really noticed how bad it was, before - " 

"Oh come on, you ruined my pun, and it was a good one too. Soooo. Magic fish bouillon? We don't have anything to lose if we try wishing, right? Besides," Sigrun added, holding up the package promising _magisk kraft!_ , "Alvny, from near the fence, says she's been having dreams since this thing started that she can't explain. Remember when I told you about that big thing that tried to get into Dalsnes?" Sigrun asked. "The one Berit shot? We all were there to wait for it because Alvny told Berit about her dream, and Berit took it seriously. I only heard about her dreams afterward, or I wouldn't even have gone there at all; I'm still not sure it feels right, but..." 

"I don't know… Ingrid looked unconvinced. "It might be. It feels right to me. A few months ago I didn't think that a pandemic that turned people into monsters if it didn't kill them first would have been real, either. I've heard people started calling them trolls, and if that's not magic then i don't know what is. You know, we were lucky for longer than most people, without the road." 

"True." Sigrun shrugged and leaned against the counter. Her arm still hurt, and she was rapidly running out of things to keep up appearances. She felt small, and not in a way that her usual jokes could fix. "But if there's magic now, maybe Aksel was right. Let's not wish for bad things to happen, so they don't happen." 

"I never thought I'd see the day of you not trying to deliberately jinx someone just to make them miserable. I like this new Sigrun," Ingrid concluded. It was nice, Sigrun thought, that she managed to pull herself together after her breakdown. 

"Well, yeah. We have to start somewhere, right? If we don't mess this up, I'm going to live to a hundred, turn into Berit, and then I'll go out like a Viking fighting something huge. And I'll jump Aksel and have at least one kid that's named after me. Or a whole army. Sigrun One and Sigrun Two and Sigurd One and Sigrun Three and Sigurd Two and - " 

Ingrid burst into peals of laughter. The sound shocked Sigrun into silence, but she couldn't help smirking. 

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. And the best." Ingrid was wiping at her face again. Sigrun couldn't tell if the tears were tears of laughter, or actual-tears tears. 

"Dumber than wish-fulfilling fish soup?" 

"Dumber than wish-fulfilling fish soup." Ingrid grabbed the pack of bouillon cubes from the supply crate and held it up for Sigrun to see, offering to help her rise. "Come on, let's go eat and make our wishes." 

* * *

They were lucky. The gas and water tanks of the café were full and would last them forever, and even though Sigrun couldn't cook for the life of her (Aksel had been the best housemate in the world, leaving her leftovers to microwave in the evenings when she'd dragged her tired butt back across the fjord from guiding tourists around Stølsheimen national park), even she couldn't mess up instant soup with a handful of rice thrown in, and when it was done and she carried the pot to the table, Ingrid stood and applauded briefly. 

It was getting pitch-black while they ate. Electricity had become unreliable months ago, and the lamps that should be lighting Dalsnes stayed off that night, too. In some windows candles flickered through the curtains, but most people opted for keeping the shutters tightly closed to keep the light in and the monsters out. 

The café had no shutters, and Sigrun figured that if anything else was going to try to eat them, they didn't have that much to lose, so Ingrid lit a tea light that sat on the table between them. "At least we'll see where our soup bowls are," she said. 

"Made a wish?" she asked Sigrun and waited for her to nod before she dipped her spoon in. "Me too." She figured it was too obvious to spell out, whatever they'd said about Aksel and Gøran earlier. 

They silently spooned instant soup and rice into their mouths for a while. Sigrun caught herself staring at Ingrid. For once she wasn't twisting the ring between her fingers, slipping it on and then off again, pulling at the thin gold necklace, or running her fingers over the fine links; her hand lay clenched on the table next to her soup bowl.

"So what's for evening entertainment?" Sigrun took more of the soup; her first helping was already gone, but she hadn't realized just how ravenous she was until then. It sat warm and comfortable in her stomach, and it was odd how much better some fish-flavoured water with rehydrated fish, carbohydrates and vegetable bits made her feel. "Lapskaus bowling?" 

Ingrid pulled a face. "My leg hurts, and your arm does, too. It's not a good idea to strain them any more. Besides, we may have to eat that at some point, let's not make it any worse than it's already going to be. There are books upstairs in the rooms, and I'm sure Berit would be happy to bring us things to keep busy while we're here if we tell her when she comes to check on us tomorrow."

"Blech, books. _Batteries_ ," Sigrun said. "Bzzzzzzz." 

Ingrid's eyebrows rose. "You seriously want to waste batteries on an electric toothbrush?" 

Sigrun pushed her bowl aside and laid her head on the tabletop again. There was an ache starting behind her eyes that she was trying her best to ignore; it'd been a long and scary day and it didn't have to mean that she had the Rash Illness. Even immune people got headaches, she was pretty sure, but it still made her want to not slam her head on the table with the force she thought would be right for a reaction. "I'm not talking about _toothbrushes_ , dummy. Not everyone can have an ex-fiancé who is still eager to do his job even after you broke up. I just have the world's most terriblest housemate." 

To Ingrid's credit, she went pink, then red, like a pretty tomato with blonde hair, and made a choking noise around her spoon. "You _knew_?" 

"Yeah, I think we all did. Even Aksel, and he's an oblivious dunce most of the time. Gunnar is running the betting pool and my brother has the highest stakes in wanting you two back together. I'm opting for friends with benefits though." 

Ingrid dropped her spoon and covered her face, sitting immobile for a moment, before rising and limping for the stairs at the back of the room. "You're such asses, all of you! Screw you, I'm going to _sleep_!" 

Sigrun took it as license to finish Ingrid's soup. Then she found some empty plastic bottles and set them up in a triangle, and played Lapskaus bowling despite her arm protesting until the tea light guttered out. 

She won 24 out of 27 games. 

It beat thinking about the pain that kept creeping higher up her arm constantly. Or about Ingrid, whose leg probably didn't feel much better. 

Shit.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the [Magic Fish Soup](https://www.klikk.no/mat/toro-fiskbuljong-3661276), I'm not affiliated with this brand or making any money from it, just felt it was amusing given the subject matter. ^^;
> 
> The bit about drowning yourself once symptoms show up... I'm sorry. That was actually written _before_ page 750 happened, just an unfortunate coincidence.


End file.
